The moment Troy’s fist collided with Xander’s jaw, the air in the apartment turned suffocatingly still. His knuckles were red, trembling with fury, and his chest heaved as if he couldn’t get enough air. There was a violence in his eyes I hadn’t seen before–wild, untamed, and terrifying.
Xander staggered back a step, wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, and before he could react, I darted forward and shoved Troy away with both hands.
“Are you insane?!” My voice broke as I pushed him back. “What the hell are you doing?” Troy stumbled, eyes bloodshot, his voice hoarse and ragged. “Am I insane? Or are you the one who’s lost all sense of reality?”
“This is my home now,” I snapped, standing protectively between them. “You don’t get to walk in and punch someone because your ego can’t take being replaced.”
Troy’s breathing was heavy, and for the first time, he didn’t speak like the cold, unreadable man I’d known for years–he spoke like someone on the edge of breaking. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, almost begging. “What do I have to do for you to come home
with me?”
“I’m not going back, Troy,” I said, staring straight into his storm–colored eyes. “I don’t love you anymore. I’ve moved on. I am moving on.”
His face twisted in disbelief, his voice cracking. “With him?”
I let out a short laugh, not out of humor, but the kind of exhausted, bitter laugh that came from years of being hurt. I walked to my drawer and pulled out a box–the one Xander had given me days ago.
“He’s more honest than you ever were,” I murmured. “He has always been there for me ever since we were kids. He’s been here… when you weren’t. When I was falling apart, he saw me. He loved me even when I didn’t love myself.”
Troy shook his head, like he could shake the truth out of the air. “I… I didn’t know.”
“You didn’t want to,” I interrupted. “You were too busy pretending I didn’t exist. Marrying me to shut everyone up while you kept the truth that it has always been Bianca.”
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off again. “You never really loved me, Troy. You loved the version of me that was convenient. The obedient wife. The quiet one. The one who didn’t ask questions about your obsession with your stepsister.”
He looked like he was in physical pain.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally. Barely audible. Almost pitiful.
I exhaled. “I don’t need sorry. I need you gone.”
He didn’t move. He stood there as if cemented to the floor.
“I can change,” he said desperately. “I will change. I can’t let you go like this.”
Before I could respond, the sound of glass shattering broke the tension. We both turned toward the living room where Xander had dropped the medicine box. I rushed over before
Chanter 17
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he could bend down.
“Don’t move. I’ll handle it,” I said quickly.
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He looked up at me with that gentle calm that Troy never had. I knelt beside him, carefully picking up each shard, then quietly dabbed the wound on his palm with a cotton swab.
Behind me, I could feel Troy watching.
I used to do this for him–patch up scraped knuckles after business fights, press cold packs on his injuries, scold him while holding his hand. At the time, I thought it meant something.
Now, he didn’t even deserve a glance.
Late that night, I saw him again–this time standing outside on the balcony of the building across the street. A cigarette dangled between his fingers, burning dangerously close to
his skin.
I watched as he brought his phone to his ear. His voice carried just enough for me to catch the broken edge of it.
“I’m not okay,” he said.
A pause.
“I saw her with someone else and it… it hurts. Like I’m dying.”
Silence.
Then the voice on the other end, barely audible through the breeze: “You’ve finally fallen in love with her, Mr. Green. You just realized it too late.”
The cigarette ash fell. He didn’t even flinch when it touched his skin.
And I turned away, closing the curtains.
Some things… are meant to burn.
22:12 Sat, 24 May
